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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975587">I, Valentine</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSova/pseuds/RedSova'>RedSova</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Misplaced Souls [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, Character Death, Family Dynamics, God is a troll, Hearing Voices, Horror, Original Character(s), Reasonable Doubts - Freeform, Reincarnation, SI! Nick has Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, The Mysterious Stranger is a Shy Stalker in his Youth, Tragedy/Comedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:28:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,121</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975587</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSova/pseuds/RedSova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>*Click*<br/>My name is Nick Valentine, though I suppose I wasn't always such. You can't tell it from looking but I wasn't always a Synth and no before you ask, I wasn't some  Chicago cop either.<br/>My name was.... *Static* and I don't belong here. </p><p>"Let's just say you're not the only being to ever wake in the wrong world and leave it at that," -SI!Nick Valentine</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Misplaced Souls [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1005714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>*Click*</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>My name is Nick Valentine, though I suppose I wasn't always such. You can't tell it from looking but I wasn't always a Synth and no before you ask, I wasn't some  Chicago cop either. </em><br/>
<em>My name was.... *Static* and I don't belong here. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>I don't mean it in an 'I'm a lost person seeking Faith' sort of way, but in an honest, 'I don't belong to this Multiverse' sort of way. </em><br/>
<em>No, I'm not crazy *Statics* no wires are crossed either. I honestly wasn't meant to be in this Multiverse, but God, the utter bastard he is, made a mistake. You see, he let the *static* Nick die...Permanently, while he was still N1-K3. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>So here I am, cleaning up the ba*static*ds mess. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>And he never even asked if I wanted to. Instead, the Bastard had me killed in a Hit and Run while walking home from my part-time job at *static*. </em><br/>
<em>I was twenty-*static* and everywhere I went Lady Misfortune always seemed to be laying in wait with a glass of vintage wine, a seductive smirk on her blood-red lips, and a special pair of silk panties twirling on her fingers. So my life wasn't perfect, but it was still my life. </em><br/>
<em>And he *static* me. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>I died alone on the side of a street like yesterday's garbage with the house I shared with my older sister in plain view from where I crash-landed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He let me die ALONE and then *static* bastard had the nerve to *static* my Soul from its paradise in Death's Domain, just to fix HIS mess. He NEVER even gave me a choice if this was what I wanted or if I wished to stay dead. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>Then again, had he done so I *static* chosen to stay dead. Especially seeing the Multiverse he needed *static* for is a living hell known as 'Fallout'</em><br/>
<em>Radiation. Ghouls. Death Claws. Killer Robots. Raiders. Synths. *STATIC* Super Mutants. Need I go on? How I'm not dead yet is *static*  not even I understand.  </em><br/>
<em>The only thing that confounds me more, is how God expects me to become the *static* Nick Valentine from the Fallout 4 game. *Statics* Just because we're Reflective Souls of each other, *Static* doesn't mean we're the same *Static* people. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>-From the Audio Journal of Nick Valentine</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong> <em>Chapter One </em> </strong><br/>
<em>Dead, but Still Alive</em>
</p><p> </p><p>No one wants to die, its a fact of life; but it's also a fact of life that we rarely get what we want out of life. </p><p><br/>
<em>Me?</em> I didn't want much: </p><p><br/>
<em>A good home, a steady income, a loving family, and the most basic of desires: To live</em>. For the most part, managed to acquire everything I wanted: </p><p><br/>
I was raised in a good home by my Grandmother alongside six of her other Grandchildren, who I grew up to know as my sibling. In the terms of money, we weren't the richest family around, though it never really seemed to matter as we always had food on the table, land to explore, and each other so it's not like we were missing anything besides maybe a sense of entitlement. </p><p><br/>
I was sixteen the first time Our Grandmother took us from the Nine point eight aches of Country Land that had been our whole life and brought us to a house in the city, While it wasn't an endless land of forests where one's nearest neighbor was a good mile down the road, it was unique in its individual form-<em> though a bit crowded seeing how close the houses were to one another-</em> that I grew to enjoy. </p><p> </p><p>When I turned eighteen, everyone except my oldest sister and myself left our home in favor of seeking out their own place in the world. <em>The house had never seemed so empty before. </em></p><p><br/>
I was twenty when my Grandmother became terminally ill. I dropped out of college and sold my plane ticket to Europe to become a full-time caretaker. And for the next four years, that would be my whole life until my grandmother passed away in the dead of night. </p><p><br/>
Three months later, I acquired a part-time job where I would work ten hours a day doing the most repetitive tasks possible Monday through Friday. On Saturday and Sunday, I would work as a part-time librarian while being tutored for college once more. </p><p><br/>
I kept up this schedule for two years and while things weren't perfect, I was happy. </p><p><br/>
I had a job, I had my family, and was finally going back to college after all these years. Of course, this was when God decided I needed a giant 'Fuck You' with both fingers in the form of a sleek black car in the dead of night. </p><p><br/>
To this day I could still recall that night: </p><p><br/>
It had been half an hour after midnight when I finally left work. I had turned down an offer for a ride in favor of walking as I didn't live that far away from my workplace. It was a quiet night without a shred of traffic as far as the eye could see. </p><p><br/>
Halfway home, I stopped at a gas station and dropped off some food I had been carrying around for a homeless woman who proceeded to share gossip about what was going on around the city while I purchased my older sister a pack of cigarettes. We parted as we always did: She kept repeating her usual saying of 'Bless You' while I would make a joke about how one day she would end up bless the wrong person and cause them to burst into flames. </p><p><br/>
It was... </p><p><br/>
It was <em>just another night. </em></p><p><br/>
I remember walking down the street with those damn lights that always cut off the moment someone got close to them which the city never seemed to get around to fixing. I remember throwing some leftover dog treats I had discovered within the bottom of my jacket pocket over a fence for Butch, one of the neighbor's overfriendly pit bull, and I remember relaxing as I spotted my home. </p><p><br/>
Then it happened. </p><p><br/>
I don't know where the car came from, only that one moment it wasn't there and the next it was speeding around the corner like a drunken maniac was behind the wheel. At the time, I had thought nothing of the matter- <em>why would I? In my mind, it had been just another late-night driver on their way home-</em> as I moved off the side of the road and into one of the neighbor's yard, but it must not have been enough as one minute I was standing on perfectly cut grass and the next I was lying on cold concrete. I remember seeing my shoe laying on the ground near my head and my phone shattered beyond repair. </p><p><br/>
I distantly recall hearing a voice screaming as someone to '<em>drive</em>!' followed by a loud screech of tires, the scent of rubber burning, and the agonizing pain that coursed through my body. I remember having been able to see my home due to the angle I had landed and thought if I could somehow make that last five feet I would be safe. I remember how I tried to move, but my body wouldn't listen and the despair I felt as it started to rain. </p><p><br/>
I remember fighting to stay awake and hoping desperately that someone- anyone- would just come outside as they usually for cigarettes, private conversations, or just to have a breath of 'fresh' air as they did every other night.....</p><p><br/>
<em>But wouldn't you know it?</em> This was the <strong><em>one</em> </strong>night everyone chose to stay inside. </p><p><br/>
When I finally closed my eyes, accepting that no one was coming, the streets were halfway flooded with rainwater and my body felt as though it had become stone itself. </p><p><br/>
<strong> <em>And Just like that, I was dead.</em> </strong>
</p><p><br/>
The transition between life and death wasn't quite as I thought it would be. There where no angels or demons like the good book preaches, there was no pearly stairwell leading to a shiny gate, there no deity waiting to guide me along. One moment I was laying on the ground and the next I was standing before a dark-haired man who claimed himself to be Death. </p><p><br/>
Call me crazy, but I believed him. So it didn't bother questioning it as the other beckoned me down an old dirt pathway while he started giving something he dubbed his usual <em>'This is what happened, Weclome to the Afterlife'</em> speech.</p><p><br/>
 According to Death, even had someone came I would have died due to internal damage- <em>the only true difference someone else being there would have been the fact I wouldn't have died alone with only an invisible Grim Reaper for company</em>- and while dying wasn't something I ever wanted to experience, being dead wasn't so bad.</p><p><br/>
There was no pain, despair, or sorrow to burrow into one's soul. There were no hidden tears in the rain, no blood on your lips, or desperately chocked breathes searching for oxygen. All Death offered was a soothing sense of peace, safety, and a unique '<em>paradise</em>' costumed to each Soul that entered its domain. </p><p><br/>
This place, Death had spoken as he gestured around the seemingly never-ending road traveling through the thick forest, was <strong>Mine.  </strong></p><p><br/>
To be honest, for a moment there I had been concerned my Afterlife was somehow a remix of some bad horror movie where the deranged hillbilly would be lying in wait around the nearest corner with an ax or a chainsaw, but when we finally rounded said corner there was no hillbilly waiting to chop me into pieces. Instead, My Personal Afterlife wasn't the road, but rather the land and home I and my siblings had been cultivated in by our grandmother which said road leads to. </p><p><br/>
<em>Home. </em>
</p><p><br/>
Gods, I hadn't seen this place in years and it had been even longer since I had seen it so well cared for seeing as no one ever had the time to go down there and look after it while I was still alive. I found myself hesitating on the edge of the property line, but a gentle nudge in the back was all it took for me to regain my nerve and follow Death to the door. </p><p><br/>
The first step I took inside the old house left me feeling as though I had gone back in time as I was practically engulfed by the scent of My Grandmother's favorite perfume followed by the mouth-watering scent of her special homemade holiday feast. </p><p><br/>
To be honest, I don't think I've ever moved so fast in all my life as I found my feet rushing towards the kitchen. I practically launched the door clear off its hinges causing the magnolia structure to bounce off the wall where it proceeded to try smacking me in the face, yet I couldn't bring myself to care as there, shuffling a deck of cards at an old oak table was the one woman I never thought I would ever see again. </p><p><br/>
"Mom."</p><p><br/>
Thankfully my eldest brother wasn't there with us or I would never have lived down the '<em>Cry Baby'</em> title he was constantly trying to pin onto me in Life as I found myself bursting into tears only seconds later at the gentle smile on my Grandmother's face. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>~X~X~X~</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>I was dead for all of a week before I finally meet God and while I wish I could say it was everything the Good Book tells you it all....<em>.It wasn't.</em></p><p><br/>
The man was pretty, I would give him that. Despite his brightly colored clothing, the other could have been an otherworldly model with his too perfect sun-kissed skin, lucent blonde hair, and unnatural sky blue eyes. <em>Then there was his personality....</em></p><p><br/>
To be honest, I was half certain the other was an insane lunatic who someone escaped from their own personal paradise-<em> which probably was a nice white room with comely white clothing to match-</em> and tried to humor the other as he rambled about making some type of mistake in another Multiverse until Death could show up to escort the other back to their Afterlife.</p><p><br/>
Had I know the Lunatic was just waiting to throw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, I wouldn't have humored him as I did. I would have gone home before locking all doors and windows, but I didn't and it was a bit late for that now. </p><p><br/>
"-a complete accident. All I did was turn away for a moment and proof, no more. So I needed you, but you have Lady Fortune in your corner most of the time so arranging an accident was harder then it looked-"</p><p><br/>
<em>Wait, a moment...</em>
</p><p><br/>
"-you kept getting past them without a clue they were even meant for you-"<br/>
Did he just say.....</p><p>
  <em>Had he just said.... </em>
</p><p><br/>
"-Things were so much easier back in the old days when people willingly offered themselves-"</p><p><br/>
<em>he arranged the accident?</em>
</p><p><br/>
"-You Valentine's have become the source of endless headaches for me as of late-" </p><p><br/>
<strong>"Did You MURDER ME?!"</strong>
</p><p><br/>
The Fucker, as I lovingly grew to call him, didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed as he paused for a moment and give me a look I had only seen once on my niece after I caught her getting into the cookie jar before dinner, "I wouldn't call it murder... Just a sudden recall."</p><p><br/>
I would like to think my next course of action was completely reasonable as I tried to ignore my eye twitching in favor of drawling back my fist and breaking God's nose.</p><p>
  <em>Strangely enough, it was the most satisfying sensation I had experienced since the day I died. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<span class="u"> <em> <strong>~X~X~X~</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p><br/>
"Would you agree to it if I told you there was a Boon involved? "</p><p><br/>
"Absolutely not."</p><p><br/>
"But why not?! It'll be fantastic. Just think of it, a whole new life full of adventure instead of wasting away an eternity sitting around Death's Domain."</p><p><br/>
As it turns out, God does not take rejection well. </p><p><br/>
"I told you I don't want to reincarnate! I'm dead, let me stay dead and leave me in peace!"</p><p><br/>
"I can make it worth your wild!"</p><p><br/>
"I'm not interested!"</p><p><br/>
"But you already won it."</p><p><br/>
Nor did he seem to understand the concept of<em> 'No, thank you</em>' and every time someone tried to explain it to him, it seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Who cared if he offered a Boon to help adjust to a new life. I still didn't want either it or the <em>'new chance at life'</em> the other was all but trying to shove down my throat.</p><p><br/>
"Then give me a damn refund!"</p><p><br/>
As I watched the Deity seemed to slump into himself with a soft murmur that sounded suspiciously as '<em>Why do they always want a refund?'</em> before huffing softly and speaking as though reciting something he had spoken many times before, "New Lives are non-refundable, nor are they tradable. "</p><p><br/>
I could practically feel the flat expression forming across my face as I granted the other my best <em>'I've seen what you have to sell and I'm not impressed'</em> look.</p><p>This...</p><p>
  <em>This was God? </em>
</p><p><em>This was the One True God? The Almighty people had dedicated their whole lives to? The one Saints had written about in the Good Book?</em> What had he been doing all these years: Smoking some sort of divine weed like a holy hippie from up high? </p><p><br/>
"I have the strangest feeling you're thinking ill of me."</p><p><br/>
"Would you rather I break your nose again?" I couldn't help but deadpan, not even bothering to hide the fact my thoughts were less than considerate when it came to matters concerning the other. </p><p><br/>
For some reason, the other just smiled as though pleased by something before a hand gently rested atop my shoulder, "Don't ever lose that fire. As long as you have it, you'll live a long fulfilling life, My Child."</p><p><br/>
<em>Wha-</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And just like that, there was a flash of white and instead of being somewhere within Death's Domain, I found myself laying in a white room surrounded by people in strange uniforms speaking rapidly to one another about something I couldn't quite hear-</em>
</p><p><br/>
Then another flash of white and I was abruptly standing in front of God once more, who looked just as surprised to see me as I was to see those strange people. For a moment there was a tense silence as blue eyes looked from me to well-toned hand and then back again. </p><p><br/>
"Did you just try-" </p><p><br/>
I started to speak only to be cut off as the world around me flashed a bright white once more. </p><p> </p><p><br/>
<em>The first thing I noticed was the fact I was no longer in the large white room with the strange uninformed people, but rather I was in a small room with one other person...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Or at least, I believed it to be a person. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>It was tall and humanoid, though obviously not quite human enough considering its unnatural pastel white skin lined with slight indications and glowing golden eyes that seemed to be staring into the distance. It looked familiar, but it was a distant sort of way:  Like watching a movie as a child then years later attempting to describe a side character as an adult. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I must have stared too long for the other suddenly shot to attention upon finally noticing it was the center of my attention. Though I didn't want to admit it, the sudden movement surprised me to the point I almost jumped clear out of my skin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"N1" It spoke with a soft masculine voice, so I mentally changed its labeled from 'it' to 'he, "Are you-"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The world flashed white again. This time I had the pleasure of watching God's brow furrow in confusion, "Strange, Usually, this works by now. Maybe if I-"</em><br/>
<em>And once more the world flashed white. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And just like that, I was back in the small white room through the humanoid robot- was that seriously going to become a thing now?-  was no longer standing, but rather sitting next to the bed the body was inhabiting</em>
</p><p>
  <em>. "N1," The other spoke softly, reminding me of how an adult would speak to a scared child,  "Do you know who I am?</em><br/>
<em>For a moment, I just stared- somehow I just knew he was speaking to me, that I was this 'N1'- unsure how to respond. On one hand, he; so I answered in the only way I could, "No."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The other's eyes dimmed slightly as though he was about to just shut down right then and there before he smiled a soft smile though there was a tint of sadness and despair clinging to its edges, "That is alright. I am D1-M4. You are N1-K3. We are prototypes created by the Institue to-"</em>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
Whatever we were made for, I wasn't about to find out as the room vanished just in time for me to throw up all over God's feet. The other didn't even seem to notice as he stared intensely at me. </p><p>"Maybe if I-"</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Another flash of white and I found myself staring at the face of D1 once more.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Something was off this time as not only did the other look a bit dinged but seemed intent on keeping a certain pace of distance between us instead of being up close as he had been the other times before. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>"N1," he spoke as though he didn't really want to ask, but had to for some reason, "Do you know who I am."</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>The longer I stared without answering the more his discomfort seemed to grow, before I finally forced myself to nod slowly, "D1."</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>D1 must have been bipolar as just like that, almost as though someone had hit a switch, I found myself engulfed tightly within the other's arms. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>...It was a strangely warm place to be.</em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>D1 must have agreed as he only tightened his grip when my unease reared its head causing me to try moving away. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>"N1, what the last thing you rememb-"</em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Have you ever gotten on a roller coaster, only to want off the moment it started moving?</em> If so, then you know exactly how I felt as I staggered in front of God once more. Scowling at the so-called '<em>Almighty</em>', I tried to force down the nausea building in the back of my throat, "Touch me one more time and I'll break your hand."</p><p>My only answer was a sheepish smile before the world went white once more.</p><p>To be honest, I can't tell you how many times we did this: Him trying to throw me into my new life only for me to be sent right back after a few moments; but it must have happened at least a few hundred times considering D1's calculations. <em>That poor robot (?), Android (?) was likely to need therapy considering how many times he saw me 'die' and then 'resurrect' as though life was a change of clothes I couldn't decide if I wanted to wear. </em></p><p><br/>
Had I actually been given a proper choice in the matter, I would have given up by now and thrown in the towel as it was obvious that Multiverse didn't want me in it to the point it was outright ejecting my Soul. </p><p><br/>
Unfortunately, God was rather stubborn on the matter and it showed. </p><p><br/>
"This time for sure," the Deity said with a sense of certainty that would have filled anyone with confidence, but not me. He had been speaking with that tone for the last thirty minutes and so far each <em>'This Time for Sure'</em> had ended in failure as the body he was trying to shove me inside kept rejecting me just as I rejected it.</p><p><br/>
"I have a better idea, how about we just drop this whole matter so I can return to My Afterlife and you can do whatever God does. I'm sure that Multiverse doesn't really need a Nick Valentine."</p><p><br/>
<em>And nor did I want to be it's Nick Valentine. I may have been a lot of things in life, but a Masochist wasn't one of them. </em>
</p><p><br/>
"Nonsense. Nick Valentine's existence- <em>You're existence-</em> plays a vital part of every multiverse."</p><p><br/>
"...Then why the <strong>HELL</strong> did<strong> YOU MURDER ME?!"</strong></p><p><br/>
<em>And better yet, why did he even need something the other called a 'Reflective Soul' to replace that Multiverse's Nick Valentine if he was so important? </em>
</p><p><br/>
"....In my defense, there really was no other option. Your counterpart's soul was completely destroyed-"</p><p><br/>
<strong>"WHAT THE HELL?!</strong>" I shrieked at the other as my mind registered the Diety's words, "Are you seriously telling me, My Counterpart's Soul was<strong> DESTROYED</strong> so you <strong>MURDERED</strong> me just to send to the <strong>SAME EXACT HELL HOLE that DESTROYED HIS SOUL IIN THE FIRST PLACE?!"</strong></p><p><br/>
If I could have done so, I probably would have broken God's nose again and it must have shown on my expression as the other wisely chose to convey several subtle steps backward so he was further away from me. </p><p><br/>
"...Would it make you feel better if I told you I now have a system to keep a better track of your soul then I did with his?"</p><p><br/>
<strong>"NO!"</strong>
</p><p><br/>
<em>Why in the Nine Realms of Hell didn't he have this method set up from the start, to begin with?</em> Nick Valentine's Universe was literal Hell on Earth, so it only made sense to keep an eye on him if he was so important instead of letting his Soul get Destroyed-<em> How did that even happen? A Soul wasn't something one could just squish underneath their foot like an annoying little roach-</em> and grabbing a Counterpart from another Multiverse to fill the void. Which left another question:</p><p>
  <em>If all Nick Valentine counterparts are so important; Who was going to fill the void I left in my Multiverse?</em>
</p><p><br/>
Unfortunately, that was one question I was going to have to keep wondering as that Bastard once more used my distraction to try shoving my soul into the engineered body of N1-K3 once more. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>~X~X~X~</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p><br/>
When I finally woke up and wasn't automatically rejected from my new found body, there was no small cell of a room, a white room full of people in strange uniforms, or D1-M4 as far as the eye could see. Instead, I was discarded on top of a trash heap beneath a sickly looking sky.</p><p><br/>
For a moment, I just laid there while my mind tried to piece together what exactly had happened while my head spun in circles as memories of a life I know I didn't live cycled through my mind. </p><p><br/>
On one hand, my mind was convinced I was a cop by the name of Nick Valentine, who was currently in Boston as a part of a Special Taskforce to bring down a Mobster by the name of Eddie Winter. Eddie Winter, according to my memories, had somehow caught word on my involvement and had the one true love of my life- <em>a woman with a kind smile by the name of 'Jennifer Lands'-</em> murdered. In the end, after everything we had done and lost, the man had walked by cropping up a plea deal with the <strong><em>backstabbing bastards</em> </strong>that had hired us to begin with. </p><p><br/>
But on the other hand, My name wasn't Nick Valentine; though God, himself, claimed I was the man's Counterpart of another Multiverse. I had never been to Boston in my life and while I wanted to be a Detective, I wasn't. I was a part-time worker at a normal job; who was still working on their degree needed to be a Detective. And last I checked I wasn't engaged to anyone. </p><p><br/>
<em>So on one hand, we had Nick Valentine, who actually managed to get somewhere in life, and on the other hand, we had me, who was murdered before they could even begin walking a path that would lead anywhere......</em>
</p><p><br/>
Sighing softly, I raised a hand to my face so strive off the headache I could already feel beginning to build behind my eyes. I wish I could say I took the sight of what should have been my hand well. After all, this wasn't my first time waking up in this body-<em>though it did seem a bit more damaged than usual-</em> and God had at least taken the time to explain a bit before ignoring my wishes and dragging me to my new life; so I should have known what to expect. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Right? </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>Wrong. </em>
</p><p><br/>
With the newfound memories of Nick Valentine running through my skull, the only thing I managed to register was that the gleaming metal shaped like a basic hand was<strong> NOT MINE. </strong></p><p>So, it goes without saying: <em>I panicked.</em></p><p><br/>
I'm pretty sure it was my deranged screaming which brought the pack of junkyard dog to my location. Though they were more than happy to try helping my deranged self remove the artificial hand I was screaming about. The poor things probably got whiplash from how swiftly  I went from screaming about not wanting this hand and demanding to know where my old hand was, to screaming at them after they sink yellowing teeth into my forearm. Strangely enough, it didn't hurt like I knew it should have and that seemed to set off Nick's Memories once more as I tried to pry their teeth away from my arm. </p><p><br/>
While I finally managed to pry them off and put some distance between myself and the pack of starving K9s, I ended up losing even more of the artificial skin which made the beginning of my forearm leaving the gleaming metal '<em>bones</em>' visible for all to see. </p><p><br/>
"That cannot be good," I mumbled to myself even as I wrapped a dirty cloth around the bare arm as though trying to bandage a wound I didn't have. </p><p><br/>
I wish I could say things got better after that. That I picked up a gun and became a gunslinging Legend of the Wasteland; but let's be realistic here: <br/>
<em>One, I was from another Multiverse, a peaceful multiverse- or as peaceful as one could be- where the biggest danger I had faced to that day was my College Entrance Exams.  </em></p><p><br/>
<em>Two, I had never held a gun before. Sure, I knew how to use throwing knives as I took it up as an exotic hobby, but a gun? Sorry, but I wasn't in the academy just yet and I preferred hunting with a bow and arrow over a shotgun. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<em>Three, my current body. Before God had decided to be a dick and murder me, I was  A.) a woman, B.) of only 5 foot eight inches weighting a hundred and twenty-five pounds, and C.) flesh and blood. In this body though, I was a six-foot man-shaped being made of false skin, circuits, and some type of steel. </em>
</p><p>In other words:</p><p><br/>
<em> I got my assed kicked; <strong>repeatedly</strong>.</em>
</p><p><br/>
Embarrassingly enough, it wasn't even by some wasteland creature; but rather due to the fact I had no idea how to use this body; so, I kept tripping and stumbling into piles of garbage containing sharp bones, glass, and metals that seemed to be constantly laying in wait for me.</p><p><br/>
So by the time I finally managed to crawl my way out of the junkyard-<em> Yes, I mean that literally as I no longer trusted my legs to hold my weight</em>- I had looked as one would expect from a person who had gone several rounds against a Death Claw with only boxing gloves for a weapon. Honestly, I probably would have been better off with the Death Claw for at least then I knew it wasn't anything personal and My Pride wouldn't be anything but ashes in the radioactive wind. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>~X~X~X~</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>Learning to use this body wasn't easy. </p><p><br/>
Matter of fact, it involved a great deal of learning how to do so involved falling flat on my face, drowning in nothing but sheer frustration, and curses directed towards God himself for putting me into his position. </p><p><br/>
I know, one would think I had already learned how to properly use this body seeing how many times I had already awoken inside it. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case as every other time I had woken in this body it had been A.) Strapped to a Table, B.) In a bed or C.) Trapped within D1's rather impressive grip. </p><p>So this was the first time I had actually tried to walk. <em>Had I been eatable, I probably would have been the easiest meal to ever grace the surface of the Commonwealth.</em></p><p>Fortunately, someone up there must have been on my side as nothing seemed to stumble across the beaten up Synth-<em> who couldn't even pick up a God Damn Glass, let alone defend itself properly-</em> in a run-down gas station. </p><p><em>Maybe it was God trying to make up for his mistake? Maybe it was Lady Fortune?</em> Or maybe it was some other diety entirely, but in the end, it didn't matter who it was. I was thankful for the sense of safety, even if I knew it wouldn't last. </p><p><br/>
And just like I knew it wouldn't,<em> it didn't last. </em></p><p><br/>
A week after I had '<em>moved in',</em> my sense of safety crumbled around me. <em>Literally</em>. There had been a massive Rad Storm-<em> a bad one with winds that were practically blowing shells of empty vehicles down the ruined streets-</em> caused the whole building to collapse and it was only by some miracle I wasn't crushed into a Synth sized pancake.</p><p><br/>
So, with a basic mastery over my new body, I did the only thing I felt I could do: <em>I left the ruined gas station and went searching for somewhere new for 'safety'. </em></p><p><br/>
Had I been thinking straight, I probably would have realized what a horrible idea that was. <em>After all, the Rad Storm had taken down a thousand-pound building- ruined or not- so what chance did a robotic being weighing far less, stand?</em></p><p><br/>
A snowball would have had a better chance in Hell then what I did; but being the scared fool I was, I didn't see it. Instead, I stumbled down the broken road like a drunken idiot, clinging to bending lamp posts for support as I tried to avoid being hit by flying rubble. I stumbled around like that for half an hour before finally noticing a building that wasn't trembling or losing pieces of itself to the harsh winds a good distance up the street. </p><p><br/>
<em>Safety</em>, my mind whispered to me, <em>at last.</em></p><p><br/>
<em>...Heh, I was a fool back then.</em> I never once considered the fact that I might not make it up the street or what could possibly be lying in wait inside that building.</p><p>In the end, that never really mattered. I made it halfway up that street before the lamp post I was using for support was torn from the ground. <br/>
My feet followed it's precedent at abruptly determining how to fly a few moments later. </p><p><br/>
I don't recall much of what happened after that, just a brief moment of pure fear and the screaming of wind in my audio receivers; but I must have hit my head at one point at another for the next thing I remember was waking up on a half-broken bed in a room I had never seen before.</p><p><br/>
<em>'Well, at least it beats the garbage heap,'</em> I couldn't help but think to myself even as I pushed my body into a sitting position while my optics scanned over the room for any clues as to where I was or how I got there.</p><p><br/>
It was then that I first met <strong><em>him</em></strong>. </p><p><br/>
He was a strange young man with pale skin in a tan trenchcoat with a fedora resting upon ahead of light brown hair. To be honest, he didn't look all that impressive, though there was something about him that sent off silent alarms in the back of my head that had nothing to do with how he was hiding in a corner that managed to overlook the whole room.  </p><p><br/>
"Hey, Kid," I watched as an alarmed expression cross onto the other's face as though he honestly didn't expect me to speak to him, "I don't suppose I have you to thank for getting me out of that storm?"</p><p><br/>
To this day, I still haven't figured out how I possibly worded that question so badly it sent the other all but jumping out a window and onto a shaky fire escape and though I tried to follow, yet by the time I had managed to untangle myself from the dirty sheets and poked my head outside the other was long gone. Frowning, I pulled my head back inside the window as my optics scanned over the room once more in an attempt to figure out if maybe something else had driven the other off.</p><p><br/>
Besides a pile of folded clothes resting at the foot of the bed, there was absolutely nothing that could have possibly caused such distress one out throw themselves out a window to escape it... </p><p><br/>
<em>Except me.</em>
</p><p><br/>
"What the Fuck?" </p><p><br/>
I  always knew I didn't have the best '<em>Social Skills'</em> in my family, but to send someone running with just a simple question was a new level of '<em>Socially Awkward'</em> even for me. </p><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> <strong>~X~X~X~</strong> </em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>It seemed the next time we crossed paths, I was going to owe that strange kid a favor. </em>
</p><p><br/>
Not only were the clothes he left behind in perfect condition,<em>- where he had managed to find a perfect white button-up shirt in this Hell Hole was beyond me-</em> but they fit as though they had been personally made for me...<em>Which, all right, was a bit creepy;</em> but seeing how I had been walking around naked before he left said clothes, I could overlook it just this once.</p><p><br/>
Then there was the surprise hidden inside the tan trench coat's pocket:</p><p><br/>
<em>A gun.</em>
</p><p>According to the Orginal Nick Valentine's memories, it was a slightly modified .44 caliber. A weapon he had used an innumerable amount of times before and it was only due to those memories that I had barely managed to keep from shooting myself in the foot. </p><p><br/>
<em>As it turns out, having memories of knowing using a gun and actually knowing how to use a gun are two very different things. </em>
</p><p><br/>
Which was another thing I owed to the Original Nick Valentine, as unlike myself he had actually gone through the Academy and acquired memories on how to teach a newbie all the neat little tricks that came with properly shooting and caring for a gun.</p><p><br/>
Learning wasn't going to be easy, but I offed a few giant roaches while leaving the building so to get a feel of how the gun felt in my hand. Everything else in the building-<em> mole rats, super mutants, and ghouls-</em> which were already dead when I staggered across their corpses on my way out the front door. </p><p> </p>
<hr/>
<hr/>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong> <em>Omake: The Complications of Being Death</em> </strong> </span><br/>
<em>Part 1</em>
</p><p> </p><p>There was a Soul missing from its personal afterlife...</p><p><br/>
<em>Again.</em>
</p><p><br/>
Closing his eyes, the deity known as Death, tried to force back the headache it could already feel building behind its eyes, "Damn it."</p><p><br/>
That was the<em> Sixth Soul</em> to just up and disappeared without a trace and there were only two things these six souls had in common was one factor:</p><p>
  <em>They all came from the same Multiverse and His Oldest Friend- the one known as God- had personally visited each and every one of them right before they disappeared.</em>
</p><p><br/>
It didn't take a genius to figure out this pattern though Death had tried to grant his friend the benefit of the doubt as a sense of respect to what the other had been like in the olden days, only it became harder and harder to do with each misplaced soul he discovered missing from their well-deserved peace. </p><p><br/>
Maybe he could have turned a blind eye to one or two Souls being wiped out of existence their multiverses and two being misplaced to fix the issues,<strong><em> but six?</em> </strong></p><p>
  <em>What were the chances that Six Souls had been wiped out of existence in separate Multiverses only for their sole counterparts to be within the same Multiverse? </em>
</p><p><br/>
The answer to that was simple: </p><p><br/>
<em>There wasn't one. </em>
</p><p><br/>
The Reincarnation Cycle was called a '<em>Cycle</em>' for a reason. None of those Souls should have been in the same Multiverse within the same era- <em>as their counterparts had all been born in separate eras and therefore they should have been born in the same eras in this Multiverse and don't even get him started on how two of those Souls shared the <strong>SAME Damn Counterpart</strong>. How anything thought it was being subtle enough that he somehow wouldn't notice the <strong>same</strong> undead prison guard had managed to <strong>reincarnate twice within the same Multiverse and Era</strong> was beyond him-</em> but somehow they had broken the unspoken rules. </p><p><br/>
So, despite how peaceful- <em>to downright boring</em>- that Multiverse seemed, something was obviously going on there. He hadn't put those Souls in the same era and from his understanding neither had God, which indicated either an Outside Source had done it or the Multiverse itself. </p><p><br/>
Neither thought was appealing as an Outside Source meant something rivaling not only his own powers but Gods within this Multiverse's Domain and the Multiverse... </p><p><br/>
<em>He really didn't want to think about what type of disaster would cause that Multiverse to need an assassin/teacher, a spy, a special ops agent, a master thief adopted by the Abyss, an intelligence officer, and a future detective who had been unknowingly stalked by a Supernatural Killer. </em>
</p><p><br/>
<strong> <em>No. </em> </strong>
</p><p><br/>
<strong> <em>Just No. </em> </strong>
</p><p><br/>
He didn't need to think about- <em>or the endless nightmare he would get from doing so-</em> when all he had to do was pay a visit to his old friend and demand answers. Despite how God had taken to acting these days, his old friend wasn't an idiot. Everything the other did had a reason behind it, even if you didn't understand said reason until all was said and done.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em> <span class="s1">*Click*</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Hello? Hello? Is this thing working?</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Finally! For a moment there I was worried I something managed to damage this thing even more than it was before my shoddy attempts to repair it. </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">*a soft rustling of fabric followed by a tired sigh*</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Now, I suppose for common pleasantries, I should introduce myself: The name is *static*......Well, I suppose Nick Valentine now and this is my first endeavor at cultivating an audio journal. </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Now, I know what you're *static* thinking: Why would something like me require a *static* journal? Well, the answer is simple: </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">I'm a prototype and while my CPU had more leeway in memory depository than a Gen One, It's still somewhat limited as I wasn't manufactured with the potential to retain long term memory. Eventually, like all humans, my oldest memories will start fade away until they eventually delete themselves in an effort to make room for the newer ones.</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Now, this presumably wouldn't be too great of an issue if I had reincarnated during the beginning of the gameplay, but seeing how I'm currently a good hundred years before the time frame for Fallout 4........Well, it goes without saying that I'm likely to forget almost everything about my previous life. </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">These *static* journals are my *static* attempt at avoiding just that. </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">With these *statics, I should be able to *static* back and listen to *static* to hopefully jog my memories on everything I managed to forget. </span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Well, if I live long enough to forget anything, to begin with.</span> </em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p2">
  <span class="s2">-From the Audio Journal of Nick Valentine</span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <strong> <em> <span class="s2">Chapter Two</span> </em> </strong>
</p>
<p class="p2">
  <em> <span class="s2">Dodge Anyone Toxic</span> </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Shit, Shit, Shit."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Feet pounded roughly against the ruined concrete of the street as a blur of dull colors flickered within a partially shattered window. A split second later, a steady stream of greying flickers followed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Golden eyes glimpse desperately over the devastation encompassing them as their owner scrambled to place more leeway between themselves and the hoard of mindless beast chasing them. They needed a place to bunker down, anywhere would do, but so far their abrupt exploration had been in vain as nothing but hollowed skeletons of another lifetime enclosed them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span><em>And didn't that just figure?</em> They had spent weeks trying to escape the endless labyrinth which had once been a massive metropolis, but now that they sought out one of those enormous facilities they couldn't locate a single one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A snarl brought the figure out of its thoughts as it felt decaying fingers brush against the back of its trenchcoat, resulting in it surging forward with a newfound burst of speed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Shit!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Destination clung to the figure like a shroud as it's audio caught the telltale sound of gravel shifting beneath its feet as though something was swiftly tunneling its way upwards. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Not now, " they grumbled underneath their breath even as they mentally cursed whatever Deity was behind their current series of disastrous luck. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'Jump.'</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though maybe not as much as they verbally condemned the small whisper in the back of their CPU, seeing as this whole disaster was of it's making.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span><em>.....Okay, maybe not exclusively of it's making, but it held at to eighty percent of the blame.</em> After all, had it been some random voice whispering in the back of their mind, they probably would have assumed they hit their head a bit harder than they originally speculated in that Rad Storm and thoroughly disregard it. But no, the voice wasn't just some randomized vocals, but rather a soft mimicry of D1s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>So, despite their common sense warming them otherwise, they had scrambled to their feet and started calling out to the other. D1 never showed, probably still casting in a cave system somewhere, but the sound of their voice had drawn the attention of a pack of feral ghouls. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, not you again, " they lamented, "Haven't you done enough damage?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'Jump, now!'</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>If they were to speak honestly, the only reason they bothered jumping at all was due to the tone of the voice. Ever since they had started hearing it, it had always been soft and gentle- <em>patience with them even when a Saint would have relinquished their temper with their horrid attitude-</em>but now it's tone was as harsh as a cold winter breeze. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was probably for the best in the long run as not even a millisecond after their feet left the ground did it erupt acquitting a giant, neon green Scorpion into the horde of feral ghouls. The group of Ferals appeared to take insult with the unexpected intermission of their pursuit as they lunged for the thing despite all common sense screeching to flee. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Not wanting to fall back into the expanding chaos below, their metal hand fastened firmly around the low hanging pole of a traffic light. Had anyone been walking through that section of the ruined metropolis they would have found themselves witness to the bizarre sight of a delegation of Ferals Ghouls attempting to take out a Gaint Rad Scorpion while an android in a trenchcoat hung overhead like a damsel in distress. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"So, " they asked over the sound of screeching below, "Now what?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>~X~X~</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first time they catch a proper glimpse of their reflection, it's in a damaged mirror on the second floor of a half crumbled house they were scavenging for hidden caches of ammo. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tenderly, they brought a hand up to their face: pressing the cool mental of their fingers against their dirty artificial skin. From the moment they woke in this world, they knew this wasn't their body-<em> theirs was lying in a six-foot hole in the ground somewher</em>e- but there was something more.....<em>Final</em> about seeing such instead of just knowing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their mixture of dark blackish-brown hair was gone- <em>Not replace, but just gone entirely</em>- leaving nothing but a smooth bald head behind. It would seem they hadn't quite gotten around to getting those tears on the side of their face down to their neck like the cannon Nick Valentine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their usual pale skin was even whiter, leaning a bit towards a shade of grey, underneath all the grime and dirt that had piled up since they had awoken in the trash. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Their eyes..<em>..God, their eyes</em>. They glowed- <em>quite literally, at that</em>- a luminous shade gold which cast half-formed shadows across their face like the shading to some comic book character. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”At least I'll never have to worry about finding my reading glasses again, ” They tried to reassure themselves, but their words felt like gravel on their tongue. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>After all, it wasn't just their glasses they had to worry about. Due to their new body, they would no longer need their glasses as they had perfect -<em>day and night-</em> vision, but they no longer felt hunger or thirst either. Hell, their sensors were so disconnected they scarcely felt anything, thankfully that included pain as well; but it left them constantly querying on whether or not they could consider themselves as a real being anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The mirror-<em> their reflection-</em> wasn't helping matters either as it tormented them with the image of what was obviously an artificial body that now housed them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Closing their eyes, they forced themselves to take a breath as they tried to calm the apprehension and maniac like laughter building in their chest cavity. <em>I'm fine. Everything is fine. This is okay. I can handle this. </em></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>I can do this, they assured themselves, All I have to do was get their head on straight and keep it there. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A mental breakdown here- <em>out in this wasteland nightmare-</em> would likely mean death.<em> A painful one</em>. Forcing another cycle of their false lungs, they straightened their back so they were standing tall once more instead of hunching into themselves. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They could do this. After all, while they may not be the cannon Valentine, they were still his Counterpart and that had to count for something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>......Right?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>~X~X~X~</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>“I can’t do this! I can’t do this!”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The being known as Nick Valentine chanted to themselves as they raced down another wrecked hallway in some abandoned school. This had been a horrible idea but in the defense-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Jumping over an overturned locker the android swiftly rounded a sharp corner without bothering to slow down. A milliseconds later, a howl of fury followed him as the creature pursuing him collided into the doorframe of the new hallway. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>-How was he to know a Death Claw was sleeping inside the building? Or that the government window he chooses to sneak in through would drop him directly between the horns adorning its dozing head?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It's not like accidents like these had pre-existing warnings advertising against such things!  They would like to think they would have noticed the giant neon-colored sign outside the window had there been one. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, the overgrown lizard didn't see things their way. Something that was all but proven as another howl of rage-<em>filled with such hostility the ground itself trembled-</em> reached their audio sensors once more as they stumbled, grabbing ahold of the top of the stairwell with both hands so as not to be propelled down it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Oh, for crying out loud, ” they grumbled as they carefully made their way down the stairs-<em> skipping as many as they dared to travel faster-</em> towards the ground floor, ”I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span><em>’I believe I wish to eat you,’</em> the voice that sounded like D1, but wasn't decided to put in its two senses causing the glowing eye to twitch slightly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>”You're not helping!”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They knew the oversized lizard on steroids wanted to eat them. Anyone-<em>from a blind man to a Raider with half a brain cell</em>- could see that. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>’You did ask.’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>”It was a rhetorical question! You're not supposed to answer those!”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>’Then why bother asking at all?’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For not the first time since they had woken, they worried about their sanity. Or rather their rather obvious lack of it seeing as they were currently arguing with a disembodied voice likely formed from hitting their head a bit too hard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>’You're not insane. ’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Though the other had nobody to see it, Valentine cocked their brow up in an <em>’Oh, Really</em>’ feature before pointing out the obvious, ”I’m talking to you. Am I not?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>’That does not mean you're insane, Nick.’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They snort softly as they slip down another hallway which was even small than the one before due to it being half-collapsed, ”Sane people don't argue with disembodied voices in their heads. Especially when being chased by an oversized, man-eating lizard.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>’I said you weren't insane, Nick. I never said anything about your utter lack of survival instincts.’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, Valentine has the strangest feeling they should be insulted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>’Don't be, I'm only pointing out the obvious.’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Well you can take your ’obvious’ and shove it up your metaphorical-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <strong>Boom!</strong>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Valentine found their words lost to them as the wall before they exploded outwards <em>-hands raising to protect their face as God only knows what dispersed around the hallway like shrapnel from a bomb-</em> releasing the very overgrown lizard which was the incentive of their argument. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, Valentine thought to themselves, it looked even more pissed off with them than it had been before they lost it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>”Run?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>’Run.’</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They didn't bother asking twice as they spun on heel before rushing back up the stairwell. <em>Playing Cat and Mouse, or rather Deathclaw and Synth, wasn't how they thought they would be spending their day; but in the wasteland, one had to learn to expect the unexpected. </em></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Still, they thought as they had a chord on a piano play as they shoved open the school's front doors only for their eyes track a bullet as it just barely skimmed by their face an instant later, even knowing that; somethings still seemed impossible to expect. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Skidding to an abrupt halt, Valentine slowly glanced over their shoulder-<em> starting in disbelief at the massive corpse that proved ’No, they had no imagined that piano ring followed by a gunshot’-</em> before their eyes started tracking the trajectory of the bullet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Had they been human, they probably would have never noticed the slight flash of fabric as it rounded the corner. Not that it did them as they rounded the corner seconds later only to discover it thoroughly deserted. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>”Dammit!”</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Was being in their presence truly so horrible, their savior couldn't even stick around long enough for them to at least mumble a proper ’Thank You’?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>
      <em>~X~X~X~</em>
    </strong>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span><em>Being Nick Valentine wasn't easy.</em> Most days I found myself feeling like a well-crafted imposter as I tried to live up to the man's Ghost, but failed in almost every way that mattered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike Nick Valentine, Himself, they hadn't had a chance of living long enough to develop some sort of special skills. Matter of fact, the only thing they found themselves good at was Running Away.</span>
</p>
<p><em>Hearing voices talking to one another down a back alley? </em>They ran away. </p>
<p><em>Catching a glimpse of a street fight between Raiders and a Caravan Gaurd? </em>They ran away.</p>
<p><em>Overhearing a group of Super Mutants talking about being the 'Superior Race'? </em>They ran away. </p>
<p>
  <span>It was in these moments that they found themselves painfully reminded that '<em>Counterpart</em>' or not, they weren't Nick Valentine. Sure they had his memories and could adequately shoot a gun now, but there was one thing they had that the original Valentine seemed to be lacking:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Fear.</em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was something they practically drowned in on a daily basis: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were afraid of shooting their gun. <em>There was a difference between shooting a bug or animal compare to purposely shooting a person and a part of them was afraid of what would happen should they cross that fine line in the sand. </em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were afraid of making the wrong choices.<em> What if they shot and missed? What if their bullet killed the wrong person? What if interfering got everyone involved killed because they stuck their silicon nose in where it didn't belong? </em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were afraid of meeting the Wastelanders they worked so hard to avoid. <em>People couldn't be trusted as most were only looking after themselves and wouldn't hesitate to stab their only mothers in the back if it benefitted them. </em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were afraid of taking a chance<em>. What if they saved the person? Killed the wrong people? What if they did something before it was supposed to have been done? So many things could go wrong once one took into consideration how delicate Timelines were. All it would take is one wrong move and it would all shatter like a glass of a broken mirror. </em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They were afraid...So, they ran away. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I did this for weeks as I tried to teach myself everything I could as fast as possible and I probably would have kept doing this for months, possibly even years until that fateful day I was preparing to run away from a skirmish between humans and Super mutants until I heard a small voice call out, "Daddy!"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looking back on it, I blame Nick-<em>It would seem having the memories of being a cop affected me more than I had previously believed-</em> for my body deciding to run towards the fight instead of away from it like my mind had previously decided. It was the first time I ever fired the gun from the Stranger without my hands shaking or the constant voice's damning me in the back of my head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Turns out, you really could blow up a whole group of Super Mutants with a single bullet as long as there was a Suicider amongst them.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'<em>Jim</em>' was the name of the man's life my unexpected actions saved. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was a tall man with a permanent smile on a face framed by locks of fire-red hair from a nearby settlement, who had volunteered to walk a group of children and teenagers home from a nearby scavenging trip. They had been half-way home when they had been ambushed by the mutants who most likely deemed them an easy meal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> The whole walk back to his settlement Jim kept grilling me on everything I knew-<em> or rather didn't know</em>- while offering his thanks. I tried to refuse them- <em>Tried to turn them away as they tasted like ash on my tongue as guilt settle on my chest. Why couldn't this man just understand I wasn't worth thanking</em>- but even when I explained I originally planned to run away all the other would do was grin like and lunatic and say: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Sure, you could have run like your originally planned and probably reasoned away your guilt over the matter one way or another- <em>Heaven knows anyone else with common sense would have done just that</em>- but the fact you came rushing to our aid despite having no intentions to do so tells me everything I need to know about your character."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>According to my inner clock, it took us an hour and a half to reach the settlement-<em> if that was 'nearby' to him, I would hate to see far away-</em> and I had officially thrown in the towel on trying to convince Jim-<em>the stubborn bastard</em>- that I wasn't worth the air he wasting just speaking to me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Settlement Jim and the Children wherefrom was something beautiful in its own sort of way. It had been a place full of old pre-war homes that had been refurbished from the ground up with steel connected to one another by wooden bridges practically overflowing with plants. These homes and their bridges formed a circle around a playground so that no matter what home you were inside, one always had a constant eye on the children below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then there were the people. <em>It was the first time since I woke in this Nightmare that I had seemed so many people in one place, at one time, without someone ending up dead. </em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, they were skittish around me-<em> constantly giving me suspicious looks as I walked past them with him-</em> Not that I could blame them considering what I knew about the Hell of a Reality they lived in, though once they had a few words with Jim and the children the population's attitudes did a complete three-sixty as everyone seemed to want to meet the strange metal man that had helped '<em>Their Jim'</em> bring their children home to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the children's parents- t<em>he settlement's sole mechanic</em>- even offered to give me a free<em> 'One Time</em>' look over and even managed to repair the jam those junkyard dogs had caused in my arm when I had first woken up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Though, if they're to be honest, they find it a bit disturbing how the other man- Micheal, if they remember correctly- practically drools on the structure of their hand with eyes shining in a way that had he been wearing a lab coat; Nick would have fled without a second thought. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They didn't need to add 'Dr. Frankenschtein JR' to their list of issues. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, seeing as the other wasn't trying to dissect them, they permit themself a moment to just stand there. Flexing their fingers for the first time in a year without the<em> 'clink, clink, clunk'</em> sound of something jamming against the weave under their artificial skin or the sudden lag as their arm refused to complete its motions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's soothing to be capable of moving how they want to once more. So soothing in fact, when Jim finally snaps them out of their loop their chronometer shows they've been doing it for half an hour. It's with a sheepish smile on their face that they find themselves dragged to a stilled house which was patched together with pieces of solid steel to meet Mrs. Darling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her name is Veronica and look-wise, she wasn't all that impressive-<em> Though that wasn't to say she wasn't beautiful considering that with her dark skin, even darker hair, and bright eyes the woman practically looked like a modern-day Calypso-</em> it was her personality that really caught their attention seeing as she was practically the warmest being- <em>be it person, creature, or their strange stalker-</em> they have met since they woke as Valentine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the moment they set foot inside her house, they had been swept into a warm hug- <em>the first hug that had received since their Grandmother had passed away in their previous Multiverse-</em> as lightly painted lips peppered their face-<em> words of gratitude flowing through her painted lips like water through a riverbank-</em> as her husband and child laughed at their sputtering. When she finally pulled away, it took them a good moment to realize their trench coat was not only missing; but the woman was hanging it up on a makeshift rack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their Processor stalls for a moment as it tries to figure out exactly how the slip of a woman had gotten their coat off of them without their noticing, something their daughter is more than happy to capitalize on as the young child drags them further into the house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There's a feast waiting on the dining room table and though they can't eat it-<em> trying would do nothing but cause an internal mess they would have to clean later-</em> it's the first time they've ever been invited to dinner since waking here. And while they're not sure on whether or not they can drink the fancy motor oil the kid- <em>Amy-</em> and Veronica had painstakingly hunted down for them, it's the thought that counts in their books.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, with a warm smile still on their lips, they pick up the clean can of motor oil, wink playfully at the child bouncing in and chair, and down half of it without pause. It tastes... <em>Strange</em>. Not quite the bitter, acid-like texture they know it should, but more of a half-melted milkshake containing a tad bit of milk than necessary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tenderly putting down their '<em>glass</em>' they offer the jittery child a pleased smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It's delicious."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>Two words.</em> Two words, that all it takes to send the child jumping out of the chair and practically bouncing off the walls with cheerful cries of '<em>victory</em>'. They try not to laugh, but a few notes escape their lips as Jim and his Wife share a fist bump across from where they're sitting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span class="u">
    <em>
      <strong>~X~X~X~</strong>
    </em>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Originally, they had only intended to stay for dinner; but somehow dinner became a sleepover- <em>Veronica had held his coat hostage and threatened to break their legs before dragging them back should they dared to slip away into the night. They ended up sitting stock-still on the couch all night, keeping one eye open-</em> then a sleepover became a day. One day became two, two became three, three became a week, a week became a month. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before they knew it, they had become a steady member of the community- <em>helping look after the kids, the hanging garden, the homes of the elderly, learning how to carve up a creature so that no part was wasted, learning how to "Properly" survive and not that "Half-assed attempt at getting eaten" Survival they had been using before-</em> to the point where people would jokingly claim them a '<em>Darling in all but blood'.</em></span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jim didn't seem to mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Matter of fact, the first time the red-haired man had heard them call him such, he had proceeded to burst into deep belly laughter- <em>the type that made you want to smile and laugh along with no matter how bad things seemed- </em>before grabbing the arm of their trenchcoat and dragging them to his wife who<em>- after having a good laugh herself upon hearing what the other settlers had to say</em>- outright insisted they make the joke a reality by adopting them into her side of the family. Amy, like her parents, adored the idea. Every time it was their shift to watch over the children at the park she would drag him around by the helm of their coat and proudly proclaim them her '<em>Uncle Nick'</em> to anyone she could find. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It was.....</em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the <em><strong>happiest</strong> </em>they had been since they had awoken in the body of N1 and it must show because the kid takes to calling them <em>"Uncle Nick</em>" everywhere they go instead of just the playground. Before too long, almost all the children in the settlement are calling him "<em>Uncle Nick"</em> at Amy's insistence that there's enough of her Uncle Nick for everyone who wants a new Uncle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They know the exact moment Jim finds out as the man shows up at the garage their working in with a Cheshire cat smile. He doesn't say anything for a good ten minutes. Choosing instead to Lean against a counter supported only by a few bricks as he watched the smaller of the two work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he finally does speak, it's only to declare with a serious expression, "I gladly welcome the age of Robot Overlords."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I keep telling you," Valentine had complained as they attempted to wipe the grease from their fingers only to cause it to smear further, "I'm not a robot overlord."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Ah," Jim's grin widened to the point Valentine was half certain it was about to try jumping off the other man's face, "But that's exactly what a robot overlord would say."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They feel the corner of the lips twitch upwards, but force their expression to stay neutral as they raise a brow and gestured around them, "Last I check, Robot Overlords don't do the dirty work." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Only because all the other Robot Overlords before you lacked common sense."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh," There's amusement clear in their voice as they throw their dirty rag into a nearby sink, "And how's that?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Because," his sky blue eyes practically brighten up the room with the obvious laughter in them, "Unlike those idiots, you have enough common sense to win the people's trust before trying to rule them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Dammit," they cycle the air in the lungs to mimic a regretful sigh even as their eyes brighten with amusement, "and here I thought I was being subtle about it, but it would appear my plans stand no chance against your genius intelligence; Mr. Darling."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It was elementary, Dr. Valentine."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, the two just stand there-<em> staring each other down as they paced in a circle as though preparing for some epic battle that Schalors would write poems about even decades later-</em> before both snorted in synch and laughter slipped past their lips. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <strong>
    <em>Just for a moment, that one second spent with laughter ringing in the stale air surrounding them, everything was perfect in the world. </em>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
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